


Rapping at the Opera

by AramintaWrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AramintaWrites/pseuds/AramintaWrites
Summary: Alfred, a financially struggling rapper is relieved to learn that his roommate and brother, Matthew, just rocked a place at the Magic Flute cast at the Met opera. But when something goes wrong with the soprano coloratura, a male mezzo soprano will step up to take her place. Will Alfred retain his indifference to the foreign world of Opera, or will he succumb to the silky smooth high voice echoing through the hallway?
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 12





	1. A dude in a dress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asta_la_pasta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asta_la_pasta/gifts).



“Alfred for god's sake please turn that down, you realise this is the 50th time you are listening to this song- and oh, I count!” Screamed loudly Matthew in hopes of being heard by his brother over the speakers. The maxed out volume softened just barely so Alfred’s voice could be heard.

“Oh yeah, sure, I can’t listen to my tunes but you can repeat the same small german song however much you like!” 

Not a minute passed since Alfred’s response and Matthew was furiously climbing down the stairs. When he threw open his brother's door, Alfred had never seen him so furious before- or ever. 

“You know how much this means to me, you know how important that is for me and my career!” his voice stronger than the music. Alfred reached with his hand and stopped the music completely. Now all that was left was panting Matthew and the heavy emotions that lingered in his every word. He wanted to tell him that he didn't mean it, but for the love of god, Matthew literally appeared for barely 5 minutes on stage and he was treating this like the opportunity of a lifetime!

“I think you need to calm down a bit, don't they say that a lot of practise can like, damage your voice cords or something? ‘Leave practice in the practise room’ right?” 

“I don't have a practise room, and I was advised to practise alone, opening night is in a week Alfred! A week!” 

“I still think you are making a big deal out of this, just get on that plane, sing your little thing and off you go. Easy.” he threw his arms behind his head and laid down on the bed.

“Don't tell me what's easy and what is not.” Matthews grip on the door handle tightened. “If i choose to practise a billion times then so be it, now keep that music silent-” Alfred knew his brother wanted to add a threat but he was still all too kind to do it, even when he was angry. Alfred exhaled loudly once he heard Matthew close the door loudly behind him as he exited his bedroom, but his steps were softer than before, and soon enough he could hear his brother's voice from his bedroom upstairs.

_ “This path leads to your goal, yet you, youth, must fight like a man” _

The same three phrases over and over again. Alfred sometimes wondered if Matthew himself had ever gotten bored of them, even for just the tiniest of seconds. He knew opera was tough, and that this production his brother was part of was huge, and he couldn't be happier for him, but the role was beyond secondary. He couldn't help but think that Mahthew was being overdramatic, but he guessed that's what opera singers do.He, of course, didn't dare voice these thoughts, but if anyone else asked his younger brother would always say stuff like ‘the exposure will be huge’ and ‘no matter big or small, it needs to be perfect’. 

All these aside, Alfred had never seen the young Alto so stressed out. It was borderline kind of unhealthy, but despite Alfred's tries, the man still kept being anxious about the smallest, most undetectable mistake or turn his voice would make.

But on that Monday afternoon, he would prefer to see stressed out Matthew walk in through their shared apartment’s door like he had been doing for the past month. Instead though, he was greeted with what looked like utter depression. 

“So, who died?” Asked Alfred playfully as he jumped to sit on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. Avengers played after the news and he was more than ready to rewatch the film for the 14th time. His brother let his bag fall on the floor and sat next to him. Was he ‘let go’? Did something happen with the director or his coworkers? He had heard stories of an obnoxious pale german that just couldn't take the role of Tamino seriously and would often mess around with him and the other two spirits.

“Hemorrhage… Erika developed a hemorrhage.” Alfred was more confused than he was before.

“Hemorrhage? Erika?” he turned to look at the younger boy that looked even more depressed than he was before as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Yes Erika, the soprano coloratura, the Queen of the Night, one of the best sopranos out there, literally irreplaceable, one of the main roles, the harder song in the whole opera, she is at the hospital!” Alfred was taken aback by the sudden rise of Matthews voice. Usually when singers like Alfred had that problem they would just sing playback, but he knew opera didn't work like that so he didn't dare propose it. Opera was too real for him. No microphones, live music, all that was so far from the music he was familiar with; the computer generated beats and small recording rooms with walls filled with acoustic tiles.Instead, he just let Matthew go on.

“She won't be able to sing on opening night, but the tickets are already sold and the theater is already booked. The director told us that he will need some time to decide what to do.”

“I am sorry…” Alfred tried to comfort the other. “Think positively, I am sure this director dude will find a replacement and all will be well.”

“I just said she was irreplaceable, furthemore, people paid knowing she was gonna play the role.” 

“Well there isn't anything that can be done, I mean by now the word will have surely spread.”

“No, she and her manager decided to keep it on the low for now, they still believe she might be able to sing on opening night and don't want to cause a lot of fuss. Highly doubtful, if you ask me.” 

Silence filled the room where the two brothers sat on the couch.Alfred knew how much this meant for his little brother and his mind was clouded with thoughts on how to comfort Matthew that kept looking even more depressed as time went by.

“However will I break the news to my parents?Whatever will my agency say? It took them months for me to actually succeed in an audition and now that this perfect opportunity had appeared and I would get exposure for working with big names like Erika, the whole opera goes to hell.” Matthew was between crying and burning the whole apartment to the ground.It was a first for Alfred who was used to Matthew being a quiet and introverted guy. 

He wanted to be there for him like he was when he was starting his own career as a rap singer. No matter how dim the situation seemed, his little brother always managed to cheer him up, and now Alfred wished he had that same ability. He watched as Matthew exhaled loudly. 

“Maybe I should start looking for a job.” Those words hurt Alfred nearly as much as they hurt his brother. 

“Singing is a job.” He proclaimed and turned to look at the other that had now picked up his bag and was on his way to the bedroom upstairs. “Well then, i should start looking for another job, cause this one surely isn't working out all that well, and rent isn't paying itself.” Alfred didn't reply. He couldn't bear the idea of him actually making it in what he loves while his brother worked a nine to five job. I mean, ‘successful rap singer’ was nowhere near what Alfred was, but his passion got him a deal with a small record studio, and even if he had only sung second voice in a couple of songs, he was behind a lot of the lyric making and that paid well enough. He closed the TV. What was his brother doing wrong? What was he himself doing wrong? He let the popcorn on the kitchen counter and moved to his own bedroom, hoping sleep could put some easy in his mind.

The next morning Matthew was nowhere to be seen, not a message or a note, nothing. His bedroom wasn't even made up, which led Alfred to believe he must have left on a hurry- or was abducted. What are the odds? He ate breakfast by himself and worked on some lyrics that he had been working on for quite a while. The producer wasn't in the least pleased every time he turned them in, and he had to always think of something better, even though he had made it clear as day that slow songs are not his forte. ‘The music doesn't adapt to you, you adapt to the music’ is what the soon to be singer of the song told him when he asked for help. Alfred dimmed the advice crap and Carlos a douche. Yet as his brother had rightfully said yesterday ‘rent isn't paying itself’ and he had to do it. The only thing that stood in his way was that he was a 20 year old with zero experience of deep passionate love and the such. 

He only realised he had spaced out when the front door was roughly pushed open and the cheerful voice of his brother could be heard announcing “The opening night will go as planned! I will finally be part of an opera production!” His younger brother let his bag fall again on the floor like he had done yesterday, only this time with a playful bounce, and soon joined Alfred in the kitchen.

“What happened? Is Erika ok?” Alfred asked clearly happy for Matthews good news.

“Well not exactly... but the director did something crazy.” The alto excitedly took a seat next to his big brother and started explaining the situation. 

“The director knew he couldn't find a replacement because the people would ask for a refund, but what if they didn't know?”

Alfred almost spilled his coffee. “But- what?”

“Yes.” Matthew rushed to continue. “He just needs to find someone that looks the same and sounds the same.”

“Didn’t u say she was irreplaceable-” Alfred wanted to interrupt but Matthew slapped his hands on the table and demanded for Alfred to let him finish.

“So here is what he does: he takes all the mezzo sopranos and sopranos, except from the main roles of the show and casts them for the audition.At first it looked to all of us like a desperate try, but then he found him” As he was talking, his smile grew more. 

“Arthur! Another spirit, originally a mezzo soprano managed to hit the notes almost as good as Erika did. Bonus points he is small and pale and his eyes are green, it was the perfect match!” by this point Matthew was literally bouncing in his seat.

“And that Arthur fella actually agreed?”

“Well, he was going to get her pay, slash an additional cut from Erika's manager, you know, for pretending to be her and all that jazz. In actuality though his situation is kind of sad. He will get zero exposure since his name will be wiped out from the cast- even as a spirit- and he will sing completely under her name.”

“You sound so sure , like people won't realise this is a dude in the place of a girl.”

“If the director, whose name will be signed at the end of the play, and Erika's manager believe he can fool people, then whoever am i to judge?”

Alfred couldn't care less for that Arthur dude. He was happy that his brother was finally taking place in an opera play, his first opera play, and that he was still going to be counted as the guy that sang in a play with Erika- who apparently is famous.


	2. You know what this song is about...right?

This was harder than he thought it would be. The halls were too many, doors filling every wall. Stairs here, stairs there, however did anyone actually make their way anywhere in this labyrinth of a building? Alfred continued to wander around the hallways in hopes of finding room 865 where his brother was waiting to be picked up. Why couldn't they just meet outside? Alfred guessed Matthew wanted to show off the room or the process or something, even though the younger of the two insisted that he just wanted to practise till the last second. Alfred couldn't care less when he said yes, but now he wished he had insisted on meeting outside. Calling his brother was a no go, the signal down here sucked harder than- he wasn't going to continue that thought. 

“Fuck this.” he cursed louder than a whisper as he took what was the same turn for the 8th time now. If the room was not in that corridor too -even though he had been in that corridor and knew it wasn't there- he was leaving and calling his brother to tell him to come out and if he didnt he could walk home for all he cares. Well that was empty threats and the young adult knew it all too well, but when he heard that voice, he freezed. 

It was a high voice, higher than he thought humanly possible. Was the girl screaming? Yet it sounded so controlled, it was far from a scream. It was loud, but it was smooth. If he could touch it , it would be silk. He let the voice wash over him, in just what language was this girl singing? When Alfred thought he actually understood a word, the next one made him regret thinking that's english. Were they in the same play as his brother? Could he ask for directions? 

He started walking towards the end of the hallway. It was the room to the left , where he heard the music coming from. As he went to open the door he suddenly felt kind of guilty for never experiencing opera. If you asked him minutes ago he couldn't care less about people melodramatically screaming on stage for other people that paid even thousands of dollars to hear them, but now he almost felt ashamed for never even listening to an opera song on Youtube. He slowly pushed open the heavy door and cringed at the loud noise it made, but thankfully it wasn't louder than the singing coming from the stage. It wasn't a live orchestra, it looked like a radio device that was playing the music, and a petite figure in a dark dress stood next to it. The person's hair was completely covered by what Alfred assumed was a crown, and in one hand they held a piece of paper while in the other a knife that he could only hope was fake. 

The figures movements were tight, they were almost shaking while they continued hitting the high notes. Their mouth open wide while only their lips move to go from a soft uh to an ah. They would steal glimpses of the paper, maybe that paper had the lyrics. The music went on and the figure kept singing, not moving much but his hands would go up and down, like it was helping push the voice out of their small torso that would go up and down with each breath, their mouth that would open and close and their lips that with their tiniest movement controlled this person's whole sound. Their eyes would go wide like they were seeing a monster and then gently close as the tone was coming to an end or softened. 

However could someone produce that sound? However could it be heard perfectly all the way back here without a single microphone? Alfred let his hands rest on a seat as support. He was in aw. He was starring.It looked extraterrestrial to Alfred. The only explanation he could give was that it wasn't human. It was a gentle angel, singing how miserable the end of humanity made it, or a fierce demon that actually cared about something and couldn't handle the feeling- or both.

The song ended and the figure was on the floor. It was staring at the floor. Was it sad? How can you sing that and then just stare at the floor? Alfred stepped in the big alleyway that separated the seats in the middle of the room. It didn't notice him. Why was Alfred so scared? Why couldn't he talk? Just talk? Say something about its singing or ask for directions. The creature looked up and locked eyes with Alfred. He was out of breath. Those green eyes, he could feel them piercing through himself, through his whole being. They were oh so big and oh so bright like they were glowing with a light so foreign to Alfred. 

“Hi” he spoke to him. The person in the dark dress with the crown on his head was clearly a male, now that he wasn't singing. He raised his hand and waved at the man staring at him. It was a small wave.

That ‘hi’ and wave seemed to wake Alfred from his daze and he stuttered as he spoke “Ah- Do you happen to know where room-” he rummaged around in his pockets for the paper that wrote the number of the room. He was sure he remembered it a while ago but now no number occupied his brain. “Room 865?” he finally completed his question with a smile. The other man smiled back at him. “You are on the minus fifth floor, room 865 should be on the minus forth. Just take the elevator all the way down from the hall and as you get off, the room you are looking for should be right in the hallway the elevator is facing.”

“Thank you.” Alfred replied. Was he going to leave? He didn't want to leave. He wanted to ask so many things. What was he singing? Did he know his brother? What was his name? And why was he so sad?

The petite man kept sitting on the floor. Was he going to cry once Alfred left? Did Alfred want to know that? He took a few steps closer to the stage of which at end the other man sat like he couldn't get up, like his feet had given up forever.

“What were you singing?” Asked Alfred and took this chance to look at the other man's eyes again. 

“Der Hölle Rache” was his short reply, but now he was staring at Alfreds eyes too.

“Ah, so it's german.” 

“Yes.” the other man let out a chuckle “I couldn't tell either when I first heard it, and i know german.”

The man looked sadder now, he was going to cry.

“My brother is at a play here too, the ‘Magical Flute’ or something, that's why I am looking for that room.” he grinned hoping that this small grin would save the other man from tears.

“It's ‘The Magic Flute’ and I guess me and your brother are playing at the same play.” A tiny tear rolled down his cheek but he was fast to wipe it off. Alfred felt like the other wanted to excuse himself but didn't. Alfred decided not to let him, he continued the conversation.

“Sweet, his name is Matthew Williams, he plays a minor role so you probably don't know him.”

“Ah but I do.” was the reply “He plays one of the spirits, just like i did.” 

“Dude you play a spirit? My brother's song is so small while yours is so- so beautiful-” he was interrupted by laughter.

“No, no, i played the spirit, meaning i don't anymore- do you seriously know nothing about this opera? Especially with your brother actually taking part in it?”

“Well I am more of a pop kinda guy , but your song enchanted me.” Alfred didn't know where he found the confidence for this last word, but it was out there now and nothing could be done about it. 

It looked like the other man had something to say but did not anymore after Alfred finished talking. He just stared, which was fair, since Alfred had stared before too. 

“I just told my daughter to commit murder, but sure.” The other man let out a small giggle. ‘Shit’ thought Alfred. “Well, in my defence, I don't know any german.”

“Well, if you did I would be worried.” Gosh darn it, Alfred wanted to talk so much more.

“Were you sad?” It was the last question Alfred could manage to think of asking. The other man stared again, it seemed something both of them had in common, he guessed.

“Yes, quite.” The smile he showed at the end of the sentence was so out of place, so forced, like those high notes before. 

“Why?” he sounded like a child and he was fully aware of that. You can't just barge into a room you are not supposed to be into and start asking a complete stranger all these personal questions, but here he was, and the stranger was replying.

“Did the song make you sad?”

The other man laughed again. At least that laugh seemed genuine.

“No, it's not the song, I am just bored of repetition. It makes me sad.”

“Well my brother has only three lines and he never gets bored of repeating them.”

“Your brother is doing exactly what an opera singer should do, I envy him.” he looked melancholic.

“What?Dude, but your song is so much more interesting.” Alfred almost felt offended the other man was insulting his now new favourite song.

“And who are you to judge opera songs, mister i-am-more-of-a-pop-music-dude?” the way he said dude, he was clearly british. A new question popped up, what was a handsome british soprano that knew german was doing in New York City? Although the answer was pretty obvious ; he was singing.

“Just call me Alfred.'' Very smooth, Alfred commented while his embarrassment would have made him red as a tomato, but the other man did not find it uncool at all.

“And what do I call you? Former spirit guy?”

“Well, just Arthur would be enough.”

“Wait-” Alfred didn't want to raise his voice but it was out of his control. “Arthur? As in Arthur the dude that will super-duper-mysticaly replace Erika?” Just how did his brother say it? “Queen of the darkness?” 

Arthur looked uneasy again, like when he was singing and his legs gave out, like those tears that were threatening to fall but still held up till Alfred decided to leave.

“Queen of the Night, and yes, that would be me, we were told to not reveal this to a lot of people outside the cast, no one, to be precise.”

“Well I think you are really cool you know? Giving up exposure so the play happens, my brother was so happy he almost flew out the window.”

“Well I am glad i managed to make your brother happy but-” it was Alfred's turn to interrupt, 

“When I heard you singing I thought you were an angel, or a demon, but I guess you are more of a hero.”

Arthur laughed and oh god Alfred didn't know anyone was capable of such soft sweet laughter that suited his face so much better than sadness and staring at the floor. 

“You know I am getting paid right? And more than Erika would,too.” he seemed to lean towards the american as well, but his feet were still on the floor like he wasn't standing moments ago

“Still, very neat of you.”

“How old exactly are you, Alfred?”

That question took Alfred aback. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Super- duper , dude, guy , angels, demons, even heroes, are you five?” Was Arthur insulting him? 

“Excuse me, guy and dude are perfectly normal acceptable english words, and heroes are like, my thing, it's not my fault the only thing that isn't lame about you is your singing.”

“More like perfectly acceptable american words. And what do you know about me that makes you think the rest of me is ‘lame’?” Arthur had a playful grin on his face, he enjoyed watching the american being offended by such childish things.

“Well for one, you don't like superheroes.” Alfred dimmed that to be a perfectly good argument. “And for the rest… you are wearing a weird hat-crown thingy.”

Arthur laughed at that too, “Well it's part of my costume,I can't help it.”

“Sure, my queen.” Alfred liked being playful with his words, it was only later that thinking back on this he considered that he may have sounded flirtatious.

“If I was a queen, wicht I am not, what would make me yours?” Arthur thought so too, were they flirting? God they were flirting. The realisation of it made Alfred even more anxious.

“I don't know yet, but i could take you out for dinner and find out?” his brows raised in question- more like, suggestion. Arthurs smile softened. 

“I would love too but- “ ok,ok abort mission, he is probably married or already with someone, maybe he even has an illegitimate kid? What if he has a whole family and five sons that i would have to fight to the death for insulting a family member? 

“I have practise every day till opening day, and then I have a series of performances for a week.”

Ok, false alarm, he wouldn't have to fight anyone.

“And what if i gave you my phone number and you could text me whenever you are done?”

“Sure.” Arthur said but didn't rise to fetch his phone. “You are gonna have to wait though, i don't feel like walking yet.”

“You don't feel like walking? Is that an excuse and I should be going or..?”

“When I sing something I don't want to, it exhausts me, and I lay down to rest.”

“You don't want to sing that?Is that why you want to cry?” and it seemed like now that Alfred made it obvious he knew it, it set the tears free and they started rolling down Arthurs cheeks like a waterfall.His body started shaking and small sobs could be heard from the same mouth that sang oh so perfectly and emotionally before.

“Now, that is lame.” he said in between his sobs with a weak chuckle. Alfred moved even closer, now touching the start of the stage where Arthur layed. 

“I don't understand you, but I kinda do.” that made Arthur chuckle again.

“How so?”

“Well i too have to write some lyrics for a song i don't quite like, but i know other people will.” Alfred smiled again, this time sympathetically.

“Yeah, I guess we are both forced to do things we do not really enjoy.”

“How come you don't though? You are a soprano-”

“A mezzo soprano!” Arthur's voice raised. “I am not a soprano, nor will I ever be one, not even now I am a soprano, I am the replacement of a soprano.” Arthur shook more with every word. “No one will ever know I sing this, no one will see and cast me in a role of a soprano. I will always be a secondary mezzo soprano at best, just a spirit, next to altos and trembles.”He paused and took a deep breath, his voice softening like before.

“But I also don't want to be a soprano. It's so tiring, just so so tiring.”


	3. Good luck

It was the day of the opening night. It was the time Matthew anticipated the most but feared at the same time. He had left early the apartment, three hours before the beginning of the play. Alfred was left all alone in the living room, his mind was clouded with thoughts once again, only this time his thoughts were full of green eyes and lyrics about love and a soprano that was a mezzo soprano and didn't want to be a soprano. He thought about Arthur a lot since they parted ways in that room they met. He had managed to spend so much time with him that Matthew had to come looking for him, but he also managed to give his number to that brit, so he considered it a win. Yet somehow he couldn't place his feelings for that person. He didn't like him, no, that was a small weak word that in no way could ever represent the way Alfred worshiped Arthur that day. The peculiar singer that was told so many times he was a mezzo soprano that ended up believing it.

He felt angry at the people that made him believe that, but he also felt so foreign to Arthur's world that he felt guilty for being angry. All he could say for sure is that he wanted to protect Arthur. He wanted to see the man smiling again, grinning that silly flirty grin of his, laugh that genuine laugh that Alfred fell in love with. Love. he had never thought about love. He thought about thinking about love but was interrupted by the alarm. Thank god for the alarm, otherwise he would be running late to the performance. No, he wouldn't miss another of his brothers performances, especially one this big. 

He absentmindedly put the papers with the lyrics he was still working on in his bag and whatever else was on the kitchen table and left the apartment. The Lincoln Center was half an hour drive away, but he didn't mind. He played his favourite song and thought thoughts far from the subject of love. 

Once he was there he was almost sad the ride was over but he knew he had to hurry. He left the car at the parking lot and moved quickly where all the people were heading. 

“I am so excited about hearing Erika sing, darling.” Alfred heard a woman comment as she and her husband passed by him. ‘If only they knew’ he thought skipping past their slow walking and entered the building and- he felt so underdressed. Every man wore a tuxedo and an expensive watch while all the woman wore dressed with fancy colours and weird patterns with expensive jewelry bejeweling their ears, torso, hands and fingers. All the while he was there, with his blue jeans and white shirt covered by that bomber jacket he wore literally everywhere. He looked around as if expecting to be judged, but thankfully everyone seemed so excited about the play to pay attention to the underdressed stressed american in the centre of the room. 

He swiftly moved around people, careful not to step on a dress that probably costs more than him, and after what seemed like ages he managed to get to the Met Opera. The hall was bright, so much that it blinded him. With the help of an employee that looked at Alfred with such a pitiful look - did he really look so out of place?- he found his seat and patiently waited for the performance to start. 

He took a moment to look at the room. All around his sat boxes of people, endless floors that barely reached the ceiling. And if he bent toward he was able to look at the orchestra in front of the stage. The musicians that would come and go, running with quicke steps from one instrument to the other. He realised that this wasn't only a big deal for the singer, but for the musicians too.

Then his phone rang. There was a glimpse of hope, what if it was Arthur? What if he could wish him good luck? 

It was Matthew. 

“Hey brother, hi, i need a favour.” the altos voice could barely be heard with all the noise behind him. “I need you to bring me that hat I forgot on the kitchen table.”

The kitchen table… that was all the way back home. “Mat, i am in my seat, the opera starts in half an hour, that's how much it will take me only to get back home-”

“Shit Alfred, of all the times you could be early did it have to be now?!”

“Well i am sorry-” and then it hit him, the hat was on his bag. “I will bring it there right now, how do I get to you?” Alfred got up from his seat and moved to the central alleyway. 

“How but- whatever get near the stage and use the entrance on the right,show them the hat and tell them my name, second room to your right.”

“Got it.” and with quick movements he did as he was told. He got near the entrance to the right and told the two men standing there his brothers name and showed them the hat he told them he would be returning. They looked at one another but didn't let him pass. Whoever was he going to get through now? He looked at his phone to call his brother but his eyes fell on the time. Shit, only 20 mins left. He moved to the left entrance where a person dressed in black an white made his way in. Alfred followed behind but was given a strange look by the other man.

“I had to repair this part of an outfit.” Alfred explained himself -lied- and after the weirdly dressed person looked him from head to toe he let him in with a swing of his head, like he couldn't care less. That all worked out for Alfred though. He walked down the hallway and surely he was surrounded by people. They were running, stopping, running and stopping suddenly only to run even faster. He was dazed from all the chaos. Short people, tall people, people with cameras and people dressed in the most bizzare costumes were criculing him, not paying any attention, like he didn't even exist. He tried to navigate himself where he thought the other entrance must be and find the first room to the right. He was pushed, he stepped on some people and got looks of hatred and utter annoyance, yet he still couldn't find where that room was, or where he was for that matter. Finally, fed up with the commotion he pushed open a door and just got in. The room was empty , only a throne sat on a platform in the middle. He took a moment to appreciate the silence. 

That platform must be lifted up to the center of the stage, he thought. But he wasn't alone. In that throne sat a person dressed in a heavy black dress, with the same crown he had seen before. 

Familiar green eyes looked at blue, Alfred thought it was a shame all the magnesity those two pupils held lost in the daze of the intense makeup. He didn't look like the Arthur he remembered anymore. He looked more like someone else, more like the Queen of the NIght, more like Erika, he supposed.

“Are you lost again?” His voice was quiet. He was wearing a silly grin, like the one you do when you make a smart joke, but to his surprise:

“Yes actually, this time I am looking for that one room from the entrance to the right second room on your right.” he smiled an awkward smile.

“Sure.” Arthur said like there was something to agree with. “This way” he took Alfred's hand and- he took Alfred's hand. Arthur's hand was touching Alfred’s and it felt soft like his voice, it felt so new, like something completely foreign was touching him, and Arthur's hand led him through the crowds of people that instead of ignoring them like before, they looked almost like they were making way for Arthur and his heavy gown to pass. 

Alfred didn't want Arthur to let go, but he did,and that same hand, that once warmed his, now pointed to a wooden grey door. 

“This the room you are looking for” Arthur said just before the first bell was heard ringing.

“Bloody hell.” Arthur proclaimed and went to leave but Alfred stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Good luck Artie.” he smiled that stupid smile of his.

“My name is Arthur” he smiled back and freed his arm. Then he locked his eyes with the american’s “And thank you.''. Only after completing that sentence did he turn to leave again.

Alfred stood there watching him go, he felt like he was losing him, but he knew he never had him so he could feel this way.

The second bell rang and woke Alfred up. He pushed open that door and found Matthew in a ridiculous pilot outfit. Once his brother also noticed him he quickly made his way over and roughly wore the hat that Alfred had taken out of his backpack.

“Thank you.” he hurriedly said and turned to leave. 

“Good luck!” his brother screamed at him in hopes to be heard over the crowd, but Matthew didn't look back at him.


	4. Rapping in the bathroom stalls of Lincoln Center, Metropolitan Opera

Act 1

Dude fainted because of a giant snake. ‘Mood’ Alfred thought. Next. Dude be catching birds for a living while looking for a wife. ‘Bizzare, but can relate’ Alfred thought. 

Then the floor in the middle of the stage opened, and the throne appeared. On top of the throne sat Arthur in his disguise. He looked so sad while he sang about his- more like ‘her’- lost daughter. So melodramatic, Alfred thought. She was the queen of the night, if she couldn't save her daughter how can a random human? But he kept singing about his grief, and he clung to the prince in what looked like despair.His mind went afar for a second and he imagined what it would be like for him to be the prince, have Arthur clung to him like that, this close, touch his hands, his back and- and now Arthur was gone from the stage and send three spirits to help Tamino -the prince- to get to Sorastro's territory. 

His brother was one of those spirits, his brother was on a makeshift plane hanging above the stage and sang something about being a man.

He wanted to laugh, oh to hold back was almost impossible, but he managed for the sake of the greater good. Finally some more singing,molesting,sexism and no Arthur later there was a break. Alfred looked around, people seemed to have fallen for the act, they didn't see anything wrong with ‘Erika’. ‘Impressive’, Alfred thought. He had the urge to go see Arthur again. How long were the breaks lasting? He got out the sheet of paper with the lyrics thinking it would be a great distraction. Love used to be foreign to him, what made him change his mind?

Act 2 

Act 2 is where shit goes down apparently. It went from 0 to 100 really quick. Training and old ladies and suicide attempts- was Mozart ok?

But he saw Arthur singing that song again, his favourite song. Weird, how much he liked something that he knew made Arthur so sad. 

He saw his trembling on stage, his hands repeating their previous movements of up and down, his lips bending to get out different ahs and uhs. He gave the knife to Pamina -his daughter- in the middle of the song, now the knife made sense to Alfred.He wondered if Arthur was going to fall on the stage when his song ended like he did before, if everyone would have to wait till he ‘felt like walking again’ so the play would continue. If he would look at the floor with the same sad look and wait for everyone to leave before he starts crying. 

Arthur looked so vulnerable right now, at least in Alfred’s eyes. He stared at him hoping that Arthur would make him out of the crowd and stare back. He wanted to protect him, somehow, anyhow, not let anyone hurt the mezzo soprano with words now that he was a replacement for a big soprano coloratura. 

Could he move down by the left entrance again and sneak in the room and see him? Tell him he knew he wanted to cry so he could cry again. Hug him, touch his hand like Tamino while he touched his hair like he touched Paminas when urging her to commit murder? With such comfort while he knew he controlled her- controlled him?

He left his seat and went to the bathroom. All the stalls were unoccupied. Alfred looked at the mirror. Turns out he was the one that was going to cry.

He locked the door of the bathroom stall behind him and sat down at the seat. He took out the lyrics and started writing, writing about a man that didn't know what love is and that when he finally experienced it, he couldn't quite tell what it was. A man that fell in love with someone that lived in a completely different world so far from his and yet still longed for that person's touch and smile, still fell in love with him even when watching him from afar.

The song was finally complete, and Alfred was finally aware of his unrequited love. 


	5. Chapter 5: in which the soprano realises he is a soprano and the rapper realises he is a dumbass

Alfred had not went to any of the other plays after the opening night, cause: 

  1. Money doesn't grow on trees.
  2. He didn't want to see Arthur sing that song again.



The older of the siblings had turned in the lyrics, but unfortunately it still wasn't what the producer wanted, but instead of ripping the paper in half -like with all his other previous attempts- he decided Carlos wasn't going to sing that, but Alfred was. His first song.

Recordings went extremely good- so good that Alfred feared there was a catch, but the song was all ready and sold, and Arthur still had not called. 

Sometimes Alfred thought that it would be better if he had the brits phone number instead, maybe then he would get a proper rejection and wouldn't live off the hope of his phone ringing and someone's other than his brother’s or parents name popping up on the screen. 

Meanwhile Matthew was selected for another -minor- role at a smaller opera, but still, money is money, and Matthew was glad to be doing what he loved. He kept rubbing it in Alfred's face, saying stuff like ‘I told you the exposure was good’ etc, etc.

The play had gone well and Erika was out of the hospital right when the performances stopped, the irony was unbearable. She went to interviews and took full credit, as expected. He wondered how Arthur felt watching those, did he even watch them at all? Speaking of Arthur, he had not told his brother anything about him, and to be honest he didn't see why he should. The brit was never going to call, that was something even his brothers ability to make everything better couldn't change.

Alfred decided he should just rap about how he felt, that's what rap was after all, a way of expressing oneself and feelings he felt at the moment. So he wrote about longing and waiting for something he wasn't all that sure remembered how it was, it had almost been a month now. And half way into completion, an unknown number had to call. Of all the times to call; he chose the worst time. It almost made Alfred angry, he wouldn't be able to complete his song now. He let the phone ring for a bit -he didn't want to seem desperate to hear the others voice again- and on the fifth ring he picked it up.

“Hello?”   
“Hi.” that same ‘hi’ he told him all that time ago while laying at the end of the stage, nothing had changed.

“Arthur? Wow, it has been so long.”

“I know, I am sorry, lots of things needed to be sorted out.” Silence, it wasn't the comfortable kind.

“I heard your song.” Arthur kept speaking from the other side of the line.

“You did?” Alfred was surprised.

“Yes, it was… enchanting.” 

‘Arthur, that smartass’ Alfred thought. 

“How dare you use my pickup line, especially without permission”

“Does that mean you are still up for breakfast… lunch?”

“Dinner.” Alfred settled it for them both. If he had to wait for so long, he had nothing to lose, right?

“Yes, you choose the place,I will come pick you up, I am guessing you didn't manage to get a driver licence yet”

“I will have you know that I drive a very impressive second hand small car, thank you very much.” he made a little bow even though he knew Arthur couldn't see

“Sure Mister rapper. I still want to pick you up though.”

“Admit it, you just wanna know where I live.”   
“Oh no, I was figured out.” He playfully replied 

And next thing Alfred knew, he was making a quick excuse about going to record or something and out of the apartment he was.

Arthur’s car was less fancy than he expected, but who was he to judge. 

“Hi” That ‘Hi’ of his was going to be the death of Alfred one day.

“Hello,” he replied back. And then the car moved, and there was silence. Alfred hated silence.

He took a minute to look at Arthur, apparently the other was blond, but his blond was palier than Alfreds. 

“I heard your song was quite a hit.” Arthur interrupted Alfred's observations

“Yes, well- I wouldn't call it a hit” he hurried to reply. This small achievement of his must have looked like nothing in front of Arthur’s abilities, but it truly meant a lot to Alfred and the fact that the other man acknowledged it gave the american hopes he had been thinking about him too.

“So what have you been up to?” Alfred changed the topic onto the brit. He wanted to catch up, learn what he had to do and delayed the call for so long.

“Well I got casted for another opera production, it was a soprano role”

“That's great!” Alfred beamed. 

“Well I presume it was with the help of Erikas manager.” Arthur’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“It is still your role though, how did it go?”   
“Awful to be honest. I was fired.”

Silence again. 

“Well, we all have mishaps. You will get it next time.” At those words the brit pressed hard on the brakes throwing the poor american’s upper body forward. 

“We are here,” he announced. ‘Sensitive topic’ Alfred thought. He hurried to regain his posture and got out of the short car.

Once they settled into their table -which Arthur had booked by the way- Alfred tried to change the topic, make the atmosphere more chill. He wanted to know more about the shorter man, but he was willing to wait till the other was comfortable to open up.

“So how have you been doing? Waiting for my call?” The brit said playfully.

“Well you will be surprised to know the answer.” The other blushed. ‘Weird’ Alfred thought, whenever Arthur was the one flirting everything was fine but if Alfred replied with the same flirtatious note, Arthur would blush, a blush that reached his ears. 

“Well I also recorded a song, wrote some more lyrics; you actually called me in the middle of that.”

“Ah” The brit exclaimed and waved to a waiter. “And what was that song about?”

“Waiting.”

“You are an idiot, you know that?”

“And you are a soprano.”


	6. Remix

‘When he is singing, it's like he is using a completely different voice’ Alfred thought while the other moaned softly beneath him. ‘How can it be so different?’

“What?” the other panted. Oh, he said it out loud. Was now the perfect time to start this conversation?   
“Your voice, it's normal now, but when you sing it's high. How?” he finally asked after a few more thrusts.

The other laughed, it was a weak laugh between heavy pants. His lips carved into a smile while his smaller frame shook with each exhale of air.

“Its cause-” exhale, Alfred was willing to listen but not stop. “When I sing I don't speak, I just- ah there.” And Alfred did hit there again.

“I just sing”

Singing and talking was in a weird way equal in Alfred’s brain and only now did he realize- they are not the same word. You speak to communicate your thoughts, you sing to communicate your feelings. Was that why Arthur’s singing felt like he was forcing it out of him? Was he forcing his feelings out? Was that why he was fired? 

Every time he meets Arthur, Alfred’s questions only multiplied. Yet again the whole opera singing thing was so foreign to him that even when Arthur did answer one of his questions, he only replaced it with more. 

“Hey, you wanna try singing it?” Asked Arthur after he caught his breath.

“Sing what?”

“Der Hölle Rache '' Alfred turned to look at the other, just to make sure he wasn't kidding with him.

“Only if you try to sing my song too.”

“Deal.” The other blond agreed and lifted his arm for a handshake. Alfred took the chance and after they exchanged their hand shake he pulled the other closer to him for a hug.

“Alfred that's gross,we need to go wash.” he tried to break free from the american’s hands. He pushed and turned but his action went in vain the other, despite being younger, was stronger than him. 

“Alfred, love, please let me go.” Arthur pleaded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Ok then.” And with that, big strong hands released the smaller man's frame, and suddenly Arthur was out of the bed and onto the floor. Seems like he must have lost the bed during all that pushing and turning.

“Omg you did it!” Exclaimed Alfred as he sat up.

“Did what?” Arthur rubbed his head. “Help me up you prick.”   
Alfred caught Arthur's hand “The high thing.”   
Arthur got up from the floor. Silence. 

“Alfred that is called screaming, I fell.”

“It sounded the same to me.”

“Lord..” whispered the brit “please give me power.”

The next morning, Alfred got home all clean and well dressed, nothing suspicious, yet he still saw his brother waiting for him at the door with a not-so-good look on his face.

“Alfred,” said his brother. “We need to have a talk”. ‘Well’ Alfred thought.He must tell Matthew too at some point. 

“You have been leaving the house at random times, having secret phone calls, leaving in tuxedos for ‘work’ and coming back in the morning time.”

‘Well’ Alfred thought again. He knew his brother had to know, but the question was where he would find the strength to say it.

“Alfred I am worried about you, you haven't been getting a lot of sleep, you cover your neck and hands… what am i supposed to think?”

“What do you think?” Alfred hesitated to ask. If Matthew figured some of it out by himself, it could help Alfred's situation.

“Are you doing drugs?”

Alfred laughed and threw his arms at the air “No, no, no, no, Matthew, my dear young brother, no.”

“Well I wouldn't have to make assumptions if you just told me!” Matthew crossed his arms, feeling offended his brother was laughing while he was perfectly and totally serious.

“I am dating someone.” Matthew's face softened. “Oh” he said and sat more relaxed.

“I wasn't going to judge you or anything, you are 20 years old, brother.”

“I know.” Alfred smiled an awkward smile and rubbed the back of his head.   
“So who is it?” That's the question Alfred feared. He didn't know why he just couldn't say it, he just felt like he won't be able to explain anything if he asked how they meet or how they got together.

“So, listen,”

“Oh my god is it someone that does drugs-”

“No, no, Arthur doesn't do drugs.”

“Arthur?” Matthew repeated the new name.

“Yes, his name is Arthur.” ‘Ok smooth, there are billions of Arthurs, question surpassed, mission achieved’ Thought Alfred.

“And what does Arthur do for a living?” ‘abort mission! ’ also thought Alfred.

“He sings.” He decided the best technique is to give small bits of information at a time.

“Ah, so did you meet him at the record studio?” His brother hurried to make a logical assumption.   
“No, at the Opera” Alfred almost felt like punching himself for giving it all away.

Silence. 

“Oh that was unexpected.” His brother chuckled. 

“I mean, if that weirdo makes you happy, sure.” at that he got up from where they were both sitting on the couch. 

“Ah, I thought you would be more dramatic over this,” Alfred admitted in relief.

“Well, i prefer him over drugs, plus, despite the fact that he curses like a sailor, he is very knowledgeable in the Opera field, maybe he can stuff some culture in your brain” Matthew grinned.   
“Low blow.” Was all that Alfred replied in the same playful tone as he too got up and started moving towards his bedroom. As Matthew said, he had been losing sleep, and he had a recording session this same evening. He wasn't the one singing, just a secondary voice, but he still wanted to be well rested.


	7. Rapping at the Opera

“Problem Art, I don't know German” Alfred announced, swinging his legs back and forth as he sat at the very edge of the stage. Back then he truly did agree to sing the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah song but he didnt think of the technical difficulties that might arouse.

“It's not that hard, just copy what I do and memorise it.” Arthur replied as a matter of fact and put the crown thingy on top of Alfred's head. “Here” he announced “ That might inspire you, Alfie.” 

‘Alfie’ is what he would call him whenever he called him ‘Artie’. They both hated their nicknames.

“Ok, try one.” Alfred moved his hands like a clapperboard.

“Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen” he read the paper in front of him.

“Good job, now try to actually sing it.” Arthur moved next to him and repeated the same phrase, but instead of reading it, he sang it.

“See you need to stick Der and Hölle next to each other to run with the beat, then press the Ra and mei. Talk like your only choice is to force your only daughter to kill the man that is threatening your position, but your daughter is actually thinking about joining your enemy, so you have to be extra salty about it.”

‘Salty’ is one of the words Arthur adopted from hanging around Alfred too much.

“Try to roll your tongue at the top of your mouth so your voice becomes higher.”

Despite Arthurs great advice it was to be expected from Alfred to not manage to hit the right notes, not even close.

“So bist du meine Tochter nimmermehr.” Alfred read the sheet now.

“Your favourite lyric.” Arthur smiled at him. 

“Is it?” replied Alfred, confused as he was before.

“Yes, you say this line thrice-”   
“Thrice?!” Alfred beamed.   
“Yes , thrice, the first two times you have to say it like you are mother Gothel from Tangled, the other one you say it normally, but you have to hit F6 repeatedly at the end.”

They have been watching a lot of Disney lately, Alfred considered it his duty to educate Arthur on the matter, and the other, despite saying that he just doesn’t hate it, he actually loved all the movies Alfred would make him watch. They were cuddling too, so that was a bonus for him.

“The ah ah ahs?” Alfred questioned with a smile.

“Please don't call them that.” The other blond sighed.

Alfred giggled at the frustrated brit. 

Of course Alfred didn't make it, but it was fun to see him try.

“You are not even an alto, Alfred.” Arthur smiled at the failure of the other man as they decided to take a break and were now both resting at the end of the stage.   
“Of course I am not, I am a rapper.” Alfred smiled proudly. ‘A for Effort’ he thought.   
“Yet here you are trying to hit those F6s” It was all fun and games, he didn’t actually have any expectations.   
“No one can do it like you can babe, but I got what you meant about sitting down. I don't feel like moving either.” Alfred was reluctant to comment about something so far in the past, but he felt like bringing it up.

“You need to control your breathing better. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth” Arthur instructed and he touched with his finger Alfreds mouth and then nose.   
“You sound like a doctor.” The other was quick to dodge the touch.   
“You would know all that if you went to university, both you and your brother” Arthur fetched a bottle of water and the other downed it all in one go. Stay hydrated.

“Singing comes from the soul Artie”    
“You are a rapper, not a philosopher”   
“Same thing, anyway. I tried that Der Halo Rache thing, it's your turn now”    
“My turn?”   
“Yes, lets try King Tim III, or do you think you are more of an eminem guy?”

“Like I would know, didn't you say I had to sing the one you wrote?” Arhur replied as he got up from where they were resting.

“Yes, but singing a song about yourself would be weird.” Alfred smiled. It took a moment for the information to sink in, but alas Arthur smiled back, the warmest of smiles he had ever smiled.

The music played and Arthur kept being confused.

“Honestly, it's not that hard, just read it, but with passion” Commented Alfred followed but an exaggerated hand movement to show the ‘passion’ part.

“Easy for you to say '' The lack of notes underneath the lyrics confused Arthur a great deal.

So pissed as he was with the quick pace of the song he started singing it the way he knew how to sing. At first Alfred was left staring at him but soon enough he started laughing. 

“Do ‘rap god’ next”

“Hell no” Arthur loved making Alfred laugh.

“If you can opera rap, can I rap opera?”

“I mean, you can try”

“Give me something classy” Alfred opened his phone.   
“Try La Donna è Mobile, baritone- bass classic”

Alfred quickly typed the lyrics for that song and was sad to find out it was Italian. Yet he put on his ‘great’ Italian accent and started raping the lyrics, shaming Rigolleto, but who cared, certainly not him. 

It was Arthur's turn to shed tears of laughter. Alfred loved making Arthur laugh.

“Alfred, I don't think Opera was made for rapping.” Arthur managed to say between sobs of laughter. Alfred laughed together with the other, because he was on stage with the man he loved, and no matter opera or rap, it wouldn't change what they had. Only after they had both calmed down, he whispered at the other:   
“Yet here i am: Rapping at the Opera” 


End file.
